


Weight of Gold

by Akuma Memento Mori_reposted fics (BBJ_3)



Category: The Mask of Zorro (1998)
Genre: Archived, Character Study, M/M, captain love, old story, repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 08:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BBJ_3/pseuds/Akuma%20Memento%20Mori_reposted%20fics
Summary: As he stared at the sky, he swears he should have realized what was going on sooner. He should have thought with his head and not with his heart - though to be honest it was not exactly his heart that had done the thinking either. It was lust that had done the thinking. Pure and simple lust, which did not truly think at all. He swore underneath his breath that he should have realized who Alejandro truly was, that he should not have been so distracted by those haunted eyes.





	Weight of Gold

            As he stared at the sky, he swears he should have realized what was going on sooner. He should have thought with his head and not with his heart - though to be honest it was not exactly his heart that had done the thinking either. It was lust that had done the thinking. Pure and simple lust, which did not truly think at all. He swore underneath his breath that he should have realized who Alejandro truly was, that he should not have been so distracted by those haunted eyes.

***

            He would not have noticed the man coming towards the table if it were not Elena that was leading him there. He had grown quite fond of her passionate spirit which was more like a man’s than like any woman’s he had ever met. Walking with her through the crowd, the man was not as beautiful as Elena was. He was neither fragile nor did his eyes speak of the luxury his posture and clothing suggested. There was an invincibility in his eyes, an inability to be broken, that captured Harrison Love. They were hardened, not cold like the ice he recalled from his youth: but burning and blazing, yet solid and unbreakable. Like the earth of California, trampled by many, yet still whole. Burned beneath the unforgiving sun, but not wasting. Thriving in a world made to destroy it. Surviving when all odds weighed more than a thousand tons of gold upon his shoulders. The man that Elena led to the table was certainly no noble, of that he was sure.

            Harrison Love was a man of many things, luxury and blue blood was not one of them. He had worked his way up in the world with his gun, his sword, and the sweat on his brow. He had made a name for himself without his father’s help, without the help of anyone. He saw himself reflected in the eyes of this man. Unbroken, uncompromised by the desperation for assistance. His eyes told Harrison Love, told all watching that he did not need their help. He did not want their help or care. They existed to better him. That is what those haunting eyes told him. That every single one of the men who sat laughing with Don Raphael was simply another stepping stone that was built to be used. To be thrown aside when needed. Yet when those eyes laid themselves upon Elena there was desperation. A silent oath to never cast her aside. A pledge that only the men at the table were worth so little that they could ever be left to die by his hand.

            Standing as Elena drew nearer, he did his best not to sneer at her. He had considered her dear to him, but the fact that she had such a pledge, such a promise without question, while he was so swiftly dismissed by those mirror-like eyes, he could not stand such. Don Raphael stood and with open arms welcomed the man. Their eyes met, and he wanted to fade in that instant. Those eyes dismissed him and then absorbed him. It was as if he was everything and yet nothing in those eyes. Lower than any at this table, but that level of lowliness won him a second glance; a second thought. He was not dismissed, yet he was ignored – deliberately.

            Don Raphael made a sweeping gesture towards him and said, “Don Alejandro this is Captain Love.”

            Recognition sparked in those blazing eyes and then simmered like embers as the man tilted his head slightly as if observing some sort of freak of nature. “I have heard of you.” Dread pooled in his stomach at those words. Never had his deeds ever brought fear to him. But the scales that swung towards a balance in those haunted eyes demanded retribution, and he could only list the endless number of people he had killed to deserve such hatred. “You were chasing that legendary bandit.”

            “Hardly legendary,” he replied, trying to remove the fear. “Just a simple horse thief.”

            “Then you caught him?” There was laughter in his eyes as he watched Love. Knowing the other could not say yes.

            Jaw clenched as he sat down and listened to the small talk. Watching Elena’s eyes, sometimes her eyes were so cruel and other times so warm like a hot drink which he barely remembers from his youth that his mother gave him to fight away the chills of night. She watched this man, this Don Alejandro, and she absorbed him. Yet she did not dismiss him. He was always there in her eyes. Familiarity between them, but she glanced sideways at him like a stranger at her father’s table. Her intuition, something Love had always envied of women, told her she knew this man, but she could not place it. Staring into those haunting eyes, he knew he had stared this man down before, knew he had seen those blazing eyes before. That skin branded by the sun, yet it only made California breathe deeper in his blood. His eyes, dark coals of simmering fire, waiting for the pawns in his game to move further. Every gesture made at that table was manipulation, thick like honey and Love knew it. The Dons always played with words and movements, like dancers, but they had no passion, only greed. This Alejandro…this was not just a game. Someone would die at the end; of that, Love was certain.

            The conversation soon turned back to the masked thief as if it was a plague that tormented the minds of all the Dons. The name Zorro never truly was spoken but was constantly implied. It was as if he was here, looming over them all, a giant casting the shadow of fear over all at the table and only three of them were not afraid. Him, as he doubted one man, who could do all that the Dons feared, could exist. Elena, as she believed in the true freedom of California, and Alejandro, who simply smiled in the face of that shadow as if it were a brother to him. Love had the tormenting thought for a breath of time that perhaps it was because Alejandro knew more about this masked man than his haunted eyes would ever tell. Unable to stand the torment as those eyes laughed at him as Alejandro feigned disgust with heroism he could stand no more. Those eyes did not lie like that posture did, they told of heroes the likes of which a man of gold could never know.

            Standing, he turned to Elena, “Well, we’re at a party aren’t we? Elena would you do me the honor of a dance?”

            He cringes as she glanced deliberately at Alejandro who smirked with obvious amusement at the gesture and his reaction to it as she said, “I would be happy to.”

            They moved to the dance floor, and as he danced with her, he could almost imagine he could be happy with her. That one day he would ask Don Raphael for her hand, and he would be unable to refuse the man who had helped him win California. He could almost see it, their wedding and marriage, but it ended with those haunted eyes ignoring him and swearing everything to her. He wanted to scream. To destroy her right before Alejandro’s eyes. Alejandro…that name whispered to him a secret, but he could not hear it clear. He recalls that other brother, a head in a jar of water, but there cannot be a relation. That petty thief’s brother could not be this man who stood before him with a taunting smile and snide remark as he was dismissed from the dance floor. Ignored and tossed aside by those haunted eyes.

            “Excuse me, but the lady and I were trying to dance,” already he could see the snide remark boiling to the service.

            “You were trying,” he nodded, feigning understanding before his eyes turned sharp, and he smirked. “She was succeeding.” Before he had the chance to act, he was being swept away by a light hand on his arm. He knew he should have returned with a cruel remark, but he could not and those haunted eyes lured him away from Elena. They promised him nothing but pain, yet he could not resist wanting it. “I was just making a joke at your expense.” He could almost swear he hears, “I hope it will not be the last,” but could not be certain. But he was certain he heard, “Don Raphael desired you to return to the table.”

            There was no need of further explanation. Everything that needed to be said had been said. He walked away without a word, returning to Elena. Watching, Love had no choice but to move forward towards the Dons and the meeting which would reveal the plan which Don Raphael had already placed into action. But the music stopped and then changed into a feverish pace. He could not resist the sideways glance that succeeded in stopping him in his tracks. Lightning moves between the two of them, the lone pair upon the dance floor. Her very being has accepted his pledge, her movements beckoned him closer, and Alejandro did as she commanded. Moving nearer but then moving apart, chasing her but then luring her to chase him. He was in control of every movement, just like those men at the table, and she was falling for it. And he was jealous of her for being in a position to fall for that man. The man who smiled and moved and spoke like a Don, but whose eyes blazed like a warrior.

**Author's Note:**

> An old oneshot I found - apparently I used to do a lot of character studies / weird longing posts. No explanations, so - yeah...


End file.
